


With words of love

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Sexting, The closest equivalent for Elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nerdanel receives rather racy messages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With words of love

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the phonesex/sexting square in my (second) Season of Kink card.
> 
> Inspired by [this prompt](http://silmarillionkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1329.html?thread=123953#cmt123953)

Nerdanel found the first message on her workbench, that morning, while she was getting ready to start the day's work. Her eyes fell on the neatly folded piece of paper as she tied her apron behind her back, and observed it curiously as she tied her hair too. Then she picked it up, unfolded it, and read it.

_“The light of Telperion on your body sweat-sheened, a mount of silver for the finest diamond.”_

Her lips curled up at the edges, while a well-known warmth spread through her. She walked back to the door and peered out. The door to the forge was closed, but the sound of hammering filtered clearly through it. She frowned slightly – it wasn't like Fëanáro to interrupt his work, but maybe he had left the message earlier. She folded the paper back and put it in the pocket of her work trousers. 

She stopped thinking about it as her forehead began to pearl with sweat the longer she hacked away at the block of marble that was to turn into a leaping deer, and had completely forgotten about it when Maitimo came to remind her of lunch. When she went back to her workshop, however, she found another message at the foot of the half-finished statuette. 

_“My mouth on your clit, sucking, tasting you,”_ it read.

She blushed. The sensation evoked by that simple line was vivid in her memory, and the warmth pooled now directly between her legs. Her left hand hovered close to her crotch for an instant, almost yielding to a temptation, and a need, that were all the more strong for being unexpected.

She drew in a long breath, and composed herself again. Glancing at the shadows slanting on the workbench, she realised she would have to leave soon, if she wanted to be on time to talk with the head of the Royal librarians for the making of new decorations for their meeting-hall. She changed into clothes neat enough that the lazy tattlers wouldn't find anything amiss with them, anything to gossip about, and hastened to the Royal Palace.

Once inside the antechamber to the library, she found one more message awaiting her on the very table there. She grasped it, almost leaping towards it.

_“My fingers inside you, sliding through wetness and heat, shaping your pleasure in waves stronger than chiseled marble.”_

Nerdanel again blushed, and looked around anxiously, even though she was still alone. She re-read the message, seized by both excitement and puzzlement. The hand which had written the line seemed to be the same – the standard, poised hand used in official documents and correspondence – but she began to doubt that the author of the messages was actually Fëanáro. He had to be asleep after the night's work now, though he could very well have asked the help of one of their sons. Ñolofinwë for his part wasn't the type to leave such a message in a public place, even anonymously, and he would rather have left a single, long, detailed letter, in any case. Anairë seemed to her far more likely as the one behind that little game.

She could hardly keep up with the head librarian's questions and requests, feeling the half-crumpled piece of paper squeezed against the skin of her breasts, where she had hastily hidden it because her tunic didn't have any pockets, and tucking it under the hem of her sleeve would have had her worrying that it might fall out at any moment. Whoever had taken the trouble to drop it in the antechamber just before she arrived had very likely foreseen that too. 

As soon as the woman was gone, she decided to head home as quickly as possible, assuming that the mysterious sender would try to leave one more message there. She hurried down the shortcut Fëanáro sometimes liked to use – even if there was no particular need to – which involved climbing over the wall of two private houses, and scrambling down the steepest sides of Túna. It was an exhausting trek, but worth the effort. She got to her workshop breathless and sweaty, to be sure, but just in time to catch the culprit red-handed. 

“So it was you,” she said in a huff.

Anairë started and whirled around upon hearing the hoarse voice, then smiled at the sight of Nerdanel's flushed face and tousled hair. Nerdanel blew one of the unruly locks out of her eyes, and tucked it behind her ear. 

“Do you have anything else in mind, other than teasing me?” she asked, advancing towards the workbench. 

Anairë handed her the last message, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just fun, just for the two of us.”

Nerdanel took it and read it. 

_“Our breasts squeezed together, our bodies locked together, our tongues sliding together.”_

“If you have the time, that is,” Anairë added, letting her hand flit above the statuette as if it might have been a living creature, watching out of the corner of her eye how the desire and expectation she had fanned completely replaced breathlessness on Nerdanel's face, “though I already had my own share of fun stalking and watching you.”

Nerdanel turned her around, trapping her against the workbench, until their chests were truly pressed snugly together, and her heat seeped through Anairë's light silken dress, making her flush in turn. She leant in closer still, forcing Anairë to bend back with her hands clutching the edge of the workbench for balance. Nerdanel's lips drew a line up the side of her neck, and Anairë squirmed against her.

“Then now I shall have my own.”


End file.
